Day 5
Tuesday, December 20th
1:15 P.M.
Two days went by.
Two days came and went since Keith and Lance's bloody nose incident, and of those three days, Keith had learned a lot from the Sanchez household. He'd learned a few spanish words, ones that Benji taught him while laying their backs flat against the grassy field. Lance and Benji giggled when Keith pronounced the words wrong, and they chuckled even more when they told him forbidden profanities that were never (never) permitted in front of Mamá .
Keith had also learned what a 'chore chart' was.
First of all, he didn't even know that such a thing existed until he'd come to Arizona. It was, in his opinion, entirely lame, but also effective. It was a laminated chart posted to their fridge, each of the kid's names highlighted in different colors. It looked like something off pinterest, which made Keith cringe horrifically and refuse to partake. But, after a few days of being a guest in the Sanchez household, and quietly whining to Lance, he was officially added to the chart using a half dead whiteboard marker.
Keith also discovered that Lance wasn't the only good dancer in the family. Dancing must've been a family gene, because he'd already witnessed Rosa and Lance dance together in the kitchen three times. Rosa liked to listen to music while she cooked, hence the radio, and often she would sway her hips while stirring soup, cutting carrots, or washing dishes. Keith had caught her singing the spanish lyrics right along with the music, often Lance or Danny joining in. Danny also liked to dance, sometimes grabbing Josie and swinging her up into his arms, making her scream into a fit of giggles. And Mateo? Even Mateo danced, even if it was awkward hip shaking and offkey power ranger punches to the air when the bass hit.
And then there were the animals.
Keith wouldn't dare go near the goat, mainly out of fear that Cinderella would bite him or tear at his skinny jeans. The iguana was alright, though he'd found it in his bed two more times and had almost screamed when finding the reptile lounging in a bathtub. The dog, a large boxer named Terminator, was fun to play catch with, even if the ball always came back covered in slobber. The chickens were annoying, but Keith was willing to actually enter the coop now to help feed them. They also had a cat, though it was a stray and the family had no knowledge where he'd come from. The cat came and went as he pleased, pouncing on mice in the field and drinking the dog's water when he wasn't looking. His name was Lord Voldemort, named for his scrunched nose and dark fur. Lance called him ' Morty' for short, and strangely enough the name had caught on.
There were also children. So many children.
In reality there wasn't that many. Only three, but it often felt like three hundred. Josie and Mateo only ever had two modes; getting along, and getting the motherfucking fight on. If they weren't totally engulfed in playing together, then they were engulfed in fighting against each other. And if there was a moment of peace, then Isabella was screaming.
Keith wasn't sure what to think about Isabella. Lance loved her dearly, he called her "Baby Bella" and liked to dance with her resting at his hip. She also liked to pat his cheeks lightly, as if she were saying hello, and Lance would often tap her cheeks back with his pointer finger. The two year old could only say a few words, most of them mumbled into a mixture of sounds. She called both Lance and Benji 'Tio', as it was an easy word to pronounce, though it got confusing when differentiating the two boys.
And if Keith thought three children was too many? Lance had chuckled, reminding Keith that Christmas Eve would bring around twelve more. Lance had many cousins, three in California, two in Phoenix, four in Tucson, a couple near the Utah/Arizona border, and the rest all the way in Mexico. Not all would be able to attend the family christmas gathering, but enough that it would be a wild event. Lance informed Keith that the family always met at Rosa and Jaime's home for convenience of the large fields and spacious home.
Keith was beginning to enjoy his stay at the Sanchez household. Despite the foreign sounds, smells, and overload of other senses, Keith found the house's overly loving aura to be a comfort. The house wasn't always clean (if anything it never was, there were always toys to be put away, laundry piles to be folded, spills to be mopped up), and it only added to the family sensation.
Keith enjoyed being around Rosa and the others. Rachel, Lance's sister-in-law, was a riot to be around. She was a kid at heart, throwing puns and laughing at every joke Lance made.
Out of all the family members, Keith was thankfully not required to make a lot of contact with Jaime, and they usually only spoke at the dinner table or on the off chance that he ran into him before he left for work.
However, that all came to a change when Rosa instigated the date idea.
Or, as Lance called it, the 'Worst fucking idea my mom has ever had since she tried mario kart and failed" idea. Bad Date Plan for short.
Keith and Rosa were folding laundry on the couch when she mentioned it. Lance had lounged across the floor, skipping through channel after channel on the TV, indecisive and testing his mother's patience.
"Mom-" Lance whined, skipping through several shows that Keith thought would've been fine to watch, but had been automatically vetoed by Lance. "There's nothing to do!"
Rosa grabbed a pile of unfolded underwear from the laundry basket and tossed them in Lance's direction. "¡Parate, huevon! There's plenty to do! You've got a long list of chores and your boyfriend is doing one of them." She emphasized the word boyfriend, nodding in the direction of Keith to her right who was, in fact, doing Lance's laundry chores.
Keith gave Lance a smug smirk with a wrinkled nose, tossing red boxers at Lance's head and missing. "Fold your own underwear, nerd. It's nasty."
Lance groaned, practically rolling up from the floor like a noodle. "You're such a kiss up. And it's not nasty," Lance paused, wearing that crooked grin that Keith knew all too well. "It's not like you haven't seen it before."
"Well yeah but-" Keith turned red, eyes practically popped out of their sockets with the realization of Lance's words.
"Come on, Keith. I thought you liked me in my underwear."
What did Lance mean by that? Hell, Keith knew exactly what he meant. He was insinuating sex. He was doing it in front of his mother too! He was talking about sex, in front of Rosa, making an innuendo, in front of Rosa, talking about their non-existent, fake, pretend sex lives, in front of Rosa, wiggling his eyebrows seductively, in front of Rosa?
Was he trying to get murdered?
Rosa whipped Lance with an unfolded towel. "Lance!" Rosa cried, looking ready to whack him again. "¡No seas asqueros! I'm your mother, don't talk about that stuff around me." The woman went back to folding her clothes, placing some of Josie's shirts into a neat pile.
Lance gaped, throwing his hands in the air. "What?! But you're the one who gave Keith and I the safe sex talk a couple days ago! You can't just, like, give the sex talk then dismiss my sexual jo-"
"When's the last time you boys went on a date?"
Her words were like a brick wall, blunt and straight to the issue. Both boys had their mouths snap shut, each staring with wide eyes.
"Um…" Keith began, not moving a muscle, though slowly looking to Lance for help. A date! A date? They'd never been on a bloody date. They weren't even dating for fuck's sake.
"We, uh…" Lance rubbed at the back of his neck looking sheepish at his mother. "We've gone to a couple movies, I guess?"
Rosa folded her arms over a chest. "Really? And what movies?"
Lance turned to Keith, eyes wide as if to say 'your turn.'
"We've seen, er," Keith's mind scrambled to think of the movies that had just barely come out. "Star Wars. Yeah, Star Wars."
Rosa didn't move except for raising her eyebrows in question. "Star Wars. The one that came out, what, last year?"
Lance bit his lip. "We, uh, we don't get out much."
Rosa sighed and threw her head back, slouching against the couch cushions. "So you boys are telling me that you don't ever go on dates? And all you have is sex?"
Alarms started screeching in both the boy's ears, each giving the other a look of horror. They were fucking this up, and continuing to fuck it up, and if they didn't act soon their fake relationship would be fucked up forever.
It was either agree to her question or submit to defeat.
"...yes?"
Rosa squared her jaw and stood up straight, looking both furious and, well, excited?
"You know what!" She proclaimed loudly, popping her fist in the air. "I won't have it. We're going on a double date. It'll be you two, plus your father and I."
Both boy's jaws dropped, and their thought process was practically the same in reaction.
Hell. No.
"Mamá !" Lance cried, shaking his head violently. "No! No, no no no no, please don't subject me to this torture-"
Rosa clapped her hands together in exclamation. "Yes! A double date! What a great idea!"
Keith wasn't sure how to respond, especially since he would never talk back to Rosa. He had too much respect for the woman, and any attempt to disrespect her would kill Keith inside.
Lance, however, had other plans.
He wasn't disrespectful, not at all. He was just Rosa's middle child, and that meant complaining. And whining. Plain and simple.
"Mamá , Mamá pleeeeaaase don't make me go on a double date with you. It'll look like my parents are taking their son out with his playmate."
Rosa scrunched her nose and stood up from the couch, only to play her hands haughtily at her hips. "Would it feel better if it was a triple date? Group date? We could invite danny and Rachel."
Lance's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, hell n-"
"Yes!" Keith announced sharply, cutting Lance off entirely. "Yes. Yes we will go on a group date with you."
Lance turned around to stare at Keith, his eyes pained. Like, really pained, like his eyeballs had been stabbed with toothpicks.
"What," He whispered behind his hand, as if his Mom couldn't hear from two feet away. "What in the actual fuck are you doing?"
Keith gave a blank, deadpan stare. "Agreeing with your mother."
"But, why?!"
Keith suddenly gritted through his teeth forcefully, hiding behind a hand. "It's a good idea. We're fake dating, right? Or did you forget?"
Keith turned and gave Rosa a smile, praying to every God that she hadn't heard.
After a moment of whining and rolling his eyes, Lance finally turned to his mom. "Alright. Fine, I'll go on a group date. But on a few conditions."
Rosa folded her arms over her chest. "And they are?"
Lance gave his crooked smile. "One, I definitely want Danny and Rachel to go, because then it won't feel like I'm being babysat. And two, I get to pick the date activity."
Tapping a finger to her lip, Rosa appeared to be contemplating the proposal. Then she nodded her head and smiled brightly. "Great, I'm excited! And your father will be so mad." She giggled at that, as if making her husband mad was a hilarious triumph.
After ushering the boys to finish the laundry, Rosa happily left the room, her round cheeks pink with excitement. As soon as she was out of sight, Lance swung around and gave Keith an impish gaze.
"I know exactly what we're doing on the date."
Keith moved back to folding clothes, moving the items into the basket to be put away. "And what have you decided?" Keith asked, more interested in the clothes than Lance's wild ideas.
Lance giggled. "It's a surprise ."
Keith sighed, poisoned with the feeling that whatever wild thing Lance chose wouldn't end well. When Lance was given the opportunity to be in charge, it often went astray. Flashbacks to freshman year plagued Keith's memories, remembering how Lance had dragged them all the way to Mt. Hood in Oregon to go skiing. It had been fun in theory, except for the fact that Lance had been raised in a desert and hadn't seen snow in his fucking life. The trip had resulted in three broken bones amongst Lance and Pidge alike.
So yeah, with Lance planning? Keith was worried.
Day 6
Wednesday, December 21st
5:01 P.M .
Keith couldn't believe he'd agreed to this.
There he was, standing in the middle of an arcade, one that had required an hour and a half drive all the way to Scottsdale, Arizona. And why had they driven so far? Why was Keith in an arcade?
He was about to play lazertag.
Lance had been adamant about his date choice, and despite everyone's pleas, it was decided that the group date would ensue at the Wunderworld Arcade. The night would be filled with video games, over priced popcorn, and an all out battle of laser tag.
Normally Keith would be thrilled to pummel Lance in a competitive game of blasters and lasers. Not this time. Their date night game would be way different in comparison to the laser tag games Keith and his friends had played at university. This time Keith and Lance would be team mates - which was fine too, Keith wasn't complaining on that part. He was more than ready to battle fake aliens with Lance at his side. Except, they weren't battling aliens. They were battling the other date members, couple to couple, and Keith was beyond worried.
It was three teams. Rosa and Jaime (the purple team), Daniel and Rachel (the green team), and Keith and Lance (the red team- much against Lance's wishes). Lance, Rachel, and Rosa were ecstatic, the three of them as enthusiastic as children. They'd raced to the laser tag room, deciding on their vest colors almost immediately. On the other hand, Jaime and Daniel were just proud they'd even survived the drive up.
And Keith? Hell, Keith was just worried Rosa would bust a hip.
Their laser tag instructor was a teenage girl named Lucy, a short girl that popped her gum too much and spoke as if bored. She lead them through the rules of the game after each group decided their team colors. (A long ordeal that consisted of way too much bickering.)
"Alright," Lucy began, popping her gum for the hundredth time. "The rules are as follows: no running, no screaming, no jumping over the obstacles, and keep two hands on the blaster at all times. Oh, and no physical contact."
"Damn," Rachel commented. "What a bummer."
Lance snorted. "What? Were you and Danny planning to make out in the arena or something?"
"More like kick your sorry ass," Rachel spat with a snicker.
Their instructor, Lucy, simply popped her gum. "Do whatever you want in the arena, I don't care. Just don't break anything."
Lucy continued on with the rest of the instructions, nodding off the rules and points of gameplay so blandly that Keith feared Jaime would fall asleep. Once she was finished, the group followed her single file through a black door.
The arena was amazing; Neon colors filled the dark room, covering large black obstacles in the form of spray paint and outlining detailed images of space scenes with galactic planets.
"Alright," Lucy mumbled, punching a code into a keypad by the wall. "You've got fifteen minutes. Have fun, or whatever."
"Good luck," Rosa proclaimed happily, hugging her blaster close to her chest. "Play fair!"
Lance just smirked, following the others into the arena single file. A deep, robotic voice boomed over the intercom.
" Warriors! Geeeettt Ready!"
The three groups raced into the arena, each separating into their respective bases, Overly loud dubstep music echoed off each game obstacle, making it both hard to hear and hard to speak.
"Are you ready to get fucking creamed?!" Rachel yelled over the music, gripping her blaster and getting ready to run. She was ecstatic, her toothy grin spread across cheeks already red from the room's heat. She was like a teenager, no one could've known she had two kids at home.
"Hey!" Rosa called from her base on the other side of the room. "No cursing!"
The voice above them began to boom numbers counting down from ten, and Keith moved his blaster into position.
"Mamá , we can curse if we want," Lance called out in a whine. "This is an adult date! No kids!"
Keith couldn't see Rosa, but he could just imagine her face; nose pointed up, eyelashes batting, all in a playful display of snootiness. "I refuse to say 'fuck' in the presence of children like yourselves."
Lance gasped, faking disgust and pain. "Ma! How dare you? I'm twenty years old!"
"Just let your mother have her fun," Jaime called from his base. "Now everyone! Play safe, yeah?"
"Shhh!" Rosa cried out. "The countdown! We're almost ready!"
She was right; the loud, robot voice declared the number five. Then four, then three, slowly two, and then…
One.
The first to move was Rachel, a battle cry escaping the young woman rather dramatically. Through the cracks of a few neon boxes Keith could see Rachel leap over several fake boulders, her hair whipping her cheeks violently.
"Alright," Lance began, tugging Keith back by the vest to stop him from racing into battle. "We need a battle strategy."
Keith gaped. "Seriously? This is laser tag , it's not like we're fighting for our lives."
"Are you for real? Las tag is always strategy worthy. I have to win; there's no way I'm losing to a bunch of senior citizens."
"Fine," Keith huffed, turning around fully so that the two of them could hide behind a tall pillar. "What do you have in mind?"
Day 6
Apparently, Lance had a lot in mind. He'd assembled two different battle strategies prior to the drive into Scottsdale, one of which had included mirrors and black painters tape. Keith had ruled that one out immediately, instead going with plan two: separating for an attack on the two teams.
"You take the field and fight my brother and Rachel; what they lack in aim they make up for in speed. You're fast and can catch up to their combined force. You don't have to worry about my parents- they're old."
Keith grumbled. "What about you?"
"I've played this game enough to know that someone needs to defend the base. That'll be me. I can also earn points by shooting the other bases from afar."
Keith snorted but nodded his head. "Whatever, let's just do it." They shared one firm look before splitting in seperate directions.
Keith moved swiftly, maneuvering around large pillars, boxes, and other jungle gym pieces used for gameplay. He moved towards Rachel and Danny's base; it was a good place to start. Maybe he could earn them some points by attacking their base.
Sure enough, Keith ran into Rachel on his way there. The moment they made eye contact she aimed and shot, just barely missing Keith shoulder sensor. He'd twisted his body at just the right time, allowing him enough leverage to swing around and blast her in the chest.
Alright, so maybe Lance was right. Keith was fast.
The battle continued on after that, Rachel throwing out teasing marks as she raced after Keith across the arena. Keith was determined, yet it was strange channeling his competitive nature towards someone other than Lance. Rachel, Keith discovered, was just as competitive as Lance.
Keith didn't know very much about the girl, or at least he knew the basics. She was Danny's best friend and wife, as well as a fellow lawyer. Keith could only imagine the amount of terror she held in a courtroom. He also knew she had one heck of a personality, vivacious as well as terrifying.
The two chased each other around the arena's barriers, both moving and aiming to win. Their battle was energetic, both players fast, swift and equally intact.
However, it didn't come to a standstill until Keith tripped, his body flailing into a corner.
He made a small cry as his body rammed against the neon wall, the impact strong yet hardly painful. It was more of a shock than anything else, though pain still erupted across the side of his left body.
Rachel raced to his side, her gun dropped to hang from the vest as she reached to help him up. "Are you okay?" Her voice had switched to concern in a matter of moments.
Keith nodded and gladly took her outstretched hand. "I'm alright."
She smirked. "In that case-" With one quick move she aimed and shot, blasting his chest sensor.
"Hey!" He cried, reaching for his blaster.
Except, to Keith's dismay, the blaster wasn't at his side.
Normally the blasters hung at the side of the vest by connecting with a wire and a hook. Keith's impact with the wall had sent his gun flying, breaking the hook and detaching the wire. It then lay only a few feet away, the plastic dirty and scratched from the impact.
Keith's eyes widened. "Rachel do not-"
He was too late, as the woman scrambled to grab the laser gun. She snickered, holding the plastic toy in her hands. "Nope. Can't have it."
Keith groaned, audibly annoyed. "Come one, that's not playing fair."
A snort. "Who said Laser tag had to be fair?"
Keith cursed, silently wishing he'd agreed to taking the black tape Lance had offered. He could've cheated.
"Come on," Keith begged, reaching for the blaster. She pulled it back playfully. "Just give me my laser gun."
"Nope. This is my leverage. I'm gonna win this game whether you like it or not."
Damn, Keith thought, still reaching for the gun. It didn't help that they were around the same height, or the fact that Rachel had experience evading from grabby hands. She was Mateo's mother after all.
She would totally be scary in the courtroom.
After his third attempt at taking the blaster, Keith finally gave up. "Fine," He grumbled, folding his hands over his chest. "What do you want from me?"
The smile on her cheeks was diabolical, a crooked display that only furthered Keith's worries. "I want to take your base, but to do that I need Lance out of the picture. He's guarding it- I know he is."
"So," Keith began, running through her words for an explanation. "You want me to, I don't know, distract him?"
"Yup." She popped the one syllable word and tossed Keith's gun to her other hand.
"That's ridiculous. No way I'll help you."
"No distraction, no gun. No gun? No winning points. You'll lose either way- you might as well try ."
Keith scowled, deciding then and there that Rachel was a menace. She knew the tricks and she knew the trade; Lance and Keith had seriously underestimated Rachel's abilities. Not only was she a skilled player, but she was manipulative. And? She was totally right.
"This is blackmail, and you know it."
She smiled. "I work with criminals, kiddo. I know what I'm doing here."
After eyeing the girl down for a few more moments, running the situation through his head, he finally agreed.
"Fine," He sputtered, moving in a rush to find Lance. "But you better keep your end of the bargain!"
Day 6
How was he supposed to do this? Keith could barely get the guy to do homework at uni, let alone distract him from the best game of his life. Keith knew there was only one option, only one way. Did Keith particularly like this one way? No, it was ludicrous, and yet Keith was still following through with it.
The journey back across the arena was dangerous, especially without a weapon to defend himself. Keith moved in stealth, hiding behind neon barricades so he wouldn't be seen. It involved a lot of crawling, the linoleum floor digging into his kneecaps.
Groaning, hating himself, hating laser tag, and hating Rachel, Keith ran off to find Lance.
After racing around a few pillars and hiding from the enemy several times, Keith found Lance reloading ammo under their base. The neon red light shined down on his skin, and for a moment Keith felt himself go numb.
"L-Lance!" He cried awkwardly. The boy turned his gaze on Keith and smiled.
"You defeat the other bases yet?"
Keith swallowed and shook his head.
"Then get back out there and - wait. Where'd your blaster go?"
Keith bit his lip.
Everything about the situation felt wrong to Keith. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Not that it mattered, not that doing this with Lance affected Keith emotionally in the slightest. It was part of the job description, it was part of the fake boyfriend package deal. It was supposed to be platonic. It was supposed to be simple.
No matter how many times Keith had denied the thought, each time the answer came back a little bit stronger. It wasn't simple. It was more than just simple, it was painful and tender and completely backfiring.
Do it, Keith's mind urged him. Do it, get it over with, finish the deal.
Hands shaking violently, Keith outstretched his fingers to hold Lance's jaw. Then he spoke, voice at a whisper near the edge of Lance's jaw.
"I'm going to kiss you. Tell me right now if I can't."
Keith could feel Lance gasp, the gulp of air catching in his throat. He didn't move - barely even breathing - all as Keith gripped Lance's sharp jaw with the pad of his thumb.
"W-Why?"
Standing this close allowed Keith access to the ring of blue around Lance's irises. The fluorescent red lighting of the arena overshadowed his eyes from far away, but here? Here he could see just the rim, a light border that hinted at the real color beneath.
"People are watching," Keith explained softly. His face never moved away; if anything they moved closer of both their wills.
Lance blinked.
"Tell me no, and I'll stop."
Keith closed his eyes, just waiting, waiting for Lance to say no. He needed him to say no, he ached for it, he yearned for the confirmation that this didn't have to go on.
It wasn't that Keith was afraid the kissing. If anything it was the opposite- he wanted it. No, he burned for it, the mere possibility of a kiss smoldering Keith from the inside out. However, what he was afraid of was the consequences; the feelings that Keith knew for a fact were just beginning to bloom.
"Tell me no," Keith repeated, his breath tickling the edge of Lance's lips.
Then, as if fearful, as if hesitant, Lance snaked his arms around Keith's hips.
And then he kissed him.
Day 6
Skin.
Keith loved Lance's skin.
It was sticky with sweat, yet smooth to the touch. Keith wanted to feel all of it, every last hair, every last scar, every last blemish. He let his fingernails trail at the base of Lance's neck, tugging softly at the hairs that grew there.
Lips.
Keith loved Lance's lips.
They were soft and wet, forcing pressure and lust (lust?) against Keith's open mouth. Lance let his tongue tickle the inside of Keith's teeth, earning small moans. Each sound and earnest whine resulted in impatient tugs of his shirt and hair.
Heat.
Keith loved the heat.
The kiss was intense, moving at a fast pace that left the two boys breathless. They'd already been so hot, from all the running and chasing under neon lights. It was like living off adrenaline and adrenaline only, the chemicals pushing them to get closer, kiss harder, breathe faster, feel deeper.
Lance.
Keith loved Lance.
Keith wasn't sure how'd he'd gotten here. It was hard to process information when your hand was up another boy's shirt, and even harder when said boy had his tongue in your mouth.
Keith was backed up against a solid surface, his black shirt meshing with the neon grafitti that decorated the wall. The laser tag vests had been a nuisance, making a large gap between the two of them. They'd tugged them off ages ago, all so their bodies could become closer.
Lance hooked his index fingers around two of Keith's belt loops, only to tug his pelvis closer. He let his thumb rub at the skin above Keith's pants, all it did was make Keith shiver. Everything was causing Keith's mental state to go haywire, to sit in a state of shock, no longer able to do anything. Chemicals and emotions bounced off the walls of his skull, and the endorphins only made Keith grab a fistful of Lance's shirt.
Keith kissed Lance the way he'd always wanted to, letting himself move at a pace he'd only dreamed of. He could keep going, because it was a fake, a ruse, a tactic, a coverup. It wasn't real for Lance, (or so Keith thought) but definitely the strongest reality for Keith.
Kissing Lance was like a whole new angle of seeing him. Keith had seen the true Lance Sanchez at his most vulnerable state, emotionally compromised, mentally struggling. He'd been intimate with Lance in those ways, but physically? Keith and Lance had only ever been physically intimate the night under the glow stars, when Keith touched Lance's scar.
And he was touching it again, but this time with a different intent in mind. He pressed the pads of his palm up against the scar, gripping Lance's skin tightly. It made Lance gasp into Keith's mouth and writhe under the sensation.
God. Lance was going to be the end of him.
Keith wasn't sure how he could stop this. Christmas break would end and this would be over. It would never be a possibility again, it would never occur, the opportunities would be gone. Keith needed to cherish the moments he had before they flew away forever.
So he kissed harder, letting a hum radiate at his throat. He let his hands slip from their place underneath Lance's shirt to move more into his hair, tugging at the short, brunet strands. He ran his hand through it and pulled, only making Lance gasp.
When Lance whined his name, breath almost gone and chest heaving, Keith wasn't sure if he'd even heard right. Just the thought of Lance muttering his name in a situation like this made his heart burst.
"Keith," Lance mumbled out again, gripping tightly to Keith's hips and holding him there.
Lance said his name. Lance had said his fucking name.
Keith could've screamed, or jumped off a building, or ran a marathon, or something. But he couldn't, and he was there, and if he could only do one thing it would be to envelop Lance in more kisses. He wanted to kiss his eyelids, his nose, his stupidly large ears, his shoulders blades, his belly button, his knuckles, the soft fat at his hips-
But he couldn't do that. That was something only true lovers did.
To the outside eye, the two boys looked completely engulfed in each other (which was entirely correct). The outsider would see lust, and desire, and buckets of sexual urge. But did the two boys recognise that in each other? No, not at all. Both fully believed the kiss's emotions stood one sided. Both wanted this, both wanted to go faster, kiss harder. And yet, both were ridiculously, tragically, devastatingly oblivious.
And if the outsiders knew the truth? They'd be banging their skull into a pole, all because there had never been two people more stupidly inattentive to subtext.
Thankfully for the two boys, their other group date members did not know the truth, not in the slightest. To them the boys were completely devoted to each other, fervent and passionate and all around in love. (That was also true. Two truths, a couple overlapping lies, a whole lot of miscommunication. The whole fake relationship situation was obviously chaos.)
Then, like a knife had sliced them in half, the two boys split apart.
To both boy's surprise, Danny had taken their distraction as an advantage. He stood with both hands on his blaster, shooting repeatedly at the laser tag vests that lay abandoned on the metal floor. And next to him? Next to him was his despicable wife, Keith's blaster swinging from a finger.
For a moment the boys stood and just watched, shocked and flabbergasted. So many things had gone wrong: They had, first of all, lost the game. Second of all, the had lost terrifyingly so. And third?
It was all Rachel's fault.
Day 6
Wednesday, December 21st
5:21 P.M .
Lance was not pleased.
And Keith? Keith was embarrassed.
First of all, kissing Lance had been bittersweet. It was, in all honesty, everything he'd imagined it would be. He only wished it could've happened somewhere better, somewhere romantic, somewhere that wasn't a fucking lazer tag area. And it didn't help that now Rosa saw them as two horny college kids (which they most definitely were) and that her suspicions of them being sex-crazed were true. Which truly helped their poorly crafted boyfriend lie, but sure didn't help Keith win her approval in anyway.
The red team (aka Lance and Keith) came in last place and lost by over eighty thousand points. Rachel and Danny were the official victors, winning only because of that ridiculous stunt they'd pulled at the very end. Taking over a base, repeatedly shooting a vest, and not being attacked in the process tended to have its benefits.
"It was like stealing from a bank without any cops to stop you!" Rachel cried while describing Danny and her victory. The group had finished their game earlier, and were politely told to never come back to the lazer tag arena (they'd broken too many rules.) They'd made their way over to the restaurant part of the arcade instead, now piled into a round booth.
Lance banged his head down against the restaurant table, groaning loudly. "I can't believe I lost," He grumbled into the linoleum surface for the seventh time that evening. "Please. Please let me have another round."
Rachel laughed and took a slurp of the mint oreo shake she shared with Danny. "Nope, we can't. Your boyfriend over there broke his blaster."
"Because you ran him against a wall," Lance stated matter-of-factly, having moved his head up from the table. "and you blackmailed him into kissing me for a diversion. That's illegal."
"Illegal? Hardly. I know illegal."
Jaime looked beyond uncomfortable, and had stayed that way since they'd been kicked from the arena. Keith knew he was trying hard, and often he would push himself to smile or laugh along with the group's jokes. Jaime wanted more than anything to be supportive, which is why he'd agreed to the damn group date in the first place.
Keith was silent while he watched the family exchange, taking his own sip of the strawberry milkshake Lance and him shared. Lance had picked out the flavor (something about strawberries being the alpha fruit), and Keith agreed solely because he wanted to share. Sharing milkshakes was romantic, and cute, and equally gay. Keith considered himself to be all of those things.
"Anyway," Rachel began, dipping a fry into her shake. "Lance and Keith are nasty. Definitely just confirmed by me."
"Um, no," Lance began, pointing his finger at Rachel and Daniel accusingly. "Do you two remember a few years ago when it was Danny bringing home Rachel for Christmas? You were ten times worse. I almost died from PDA overload."
"And who was it that just made out in a laser tag arena? Not me." Danny said this pointedly, leaning over Rachel's food to stare Lance down.
Lance opened his mouth to defend himself, but Rosa interrupted him. "Oh, shush! I want to talk about the old days." Rosa began to chuckle, thinking back causing her sentimental heart swell. "Back when Rachel and Danny were in college! It was so long ago! You two were so cute, and Danny was constantly a blushing mess."
"I know someone else who's a blushing mess," Rachel muttered under her breath, only to earn an elbow jab from Lance. He was in fact blushing, and a maddening color of red too.
Rosa turned to Keith and began to talk excitedly, her hands animated. "Rachel and Lance hated each other from the very beginning. It was so bad, Lance put Rachel's underwear in the freezer then blamed it on Cleo."
Rachel waved her hands at Keith, accidentally flinging ketchup from a french fry onto the the table. "I was pissed! He was such a little fucker, but then I got him back by doing that weird prank thing with the bucket and the door and the water-" She paused, turning to her husband. "What's it called again?"
Daniel gave a deadpan stare, amazed that his wife seriously didn't know such an easy name. "It's the bucket prank, hun."
Rachel waved her hands around again, eyes wide. "Yes! Yes, that one. After that it was an all out prank war, and we became best friends. Right, Lance?" She turned to the boy next to her and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Lance scowled. "You are a traitor to this friendship, Rachel Elisa Sanchez."
Keith found that throughout the whole conversation he couldn't stop smiling. It amazed him how Rachel, a woman who wasn't even related by blood, could fit so well within their family. And strangely enough? He envied that in her. A part of Keith yearned to be connected to the Sanchez family in some way, connected more than just the simple 'boyfriend' he was.
It was moments like this that haunted Keith during his time in Arizona. These moments would appear unexpectedly, piercing Keith's emotions like a needle in a water balloon. It was in these small patches of time that Keith would remember.
One more week and he'd never see the Sanchez family again. No little Mateo to play cars with, no Mateo to be his partner in crime. There would be no Josie, the girl he'd give warm smiles to from across the dinner table. She'd always blush and smile back. There'd be no Cleo, the girl who told him interesting facts and talked about random subjects, no Cleo to converse with when his arms were elbow deep in dish soap water. Benji would be gone from his life, no longer there to tease him, to tell him Lance childhood stories, to teach him spanish swears. Daniel and Rachel would be gone too, and little Isabella, who blew bubbles in his direction and tugged at his hair when he was forced to hold her.
And Rosa? He'd miss Rosa, possibly more than anyone else. He'd miss her laughter and her dorky jokes. The sexual innuendos and the talks of safety she gave far too freely. He'd miss the way she'd dance to pop music when she made dinner, or how she had the habit of scolding her children when they did something bad. He'd miss how beautiful she was. The wrinkles in her face, the chubbiness of her belly and arms, her round cheeks, the twinkling crease of her eyelids, the marks of old age that dotted her skin and hands like stars.
But of all the things he'd miss when he left Rosa, the one thing he'd remember, the thing he'd never get to see again? Her smile. Because it was always there, whether it was sad, or happy, or a mixture of both. She wore it when she cooked, she wore it when she sang, she wore it when she stood in her bathrobe yelling at Benji to feed the dog, she wore it when Keith was caught staring at her. And no matter what variation she decided to wear that day, it was always a good one.
If I could have any mother in the world, who would I choose?
Keith pondered that.
Rosa. I would choose Rosa.
Keith thought this absentmindedly, eyes staring at nothing while the others chuckled at their familiar conversation. He felt himself space out, barely paying attention to the world around him.
And then he was woken up, simply by the touch of Lance's finger at his arm.
"Keith?" He questioned quietly, looking a tad worried. "Are you okay?"
Keith blinked a few times before nodding. "Yeah," He mumbled, moving his head up and down. "I'm okay."
The group finished their dinner ten minutes later, and Jaime insisted on paying the check. They traveled back towards the arcade area, and just as Rosa and Jaime turned to head out the front door, Lance yelped in protest.
"We can't leave yet! There's an arcade!"
"I am most definitely not going home yet," Rachel agreed, suddenly tugging at her husband's hand towards the arcade floor. "I have children there!"
Lance raised an eyebrow. "Don't you love your children?"
Rachel groaned and continued to annoy her husband with the tugging. "Yes! But they can let me have my good adult fun for one more damn hour."
"Adult fun?" Danny questioned, letting his small wife pull him forward. She wasn't making much process, especially when she was so small in comparison to his height of 6'1. "You mean playing arcade games?"
Rachel let out a huff. "Yes, Daniel. Adult fun." She gave one final tug before finally letting go. "I want to play that one game with the dancing and the bright neon colors and the shapes-"
"Dance Dance Revolution, hun. It's Dance Dance Revolution."
Rachel's eyes beamed. "Yes! Yes, that one."
Once Rachel and Danny disappeared into the sea of arcade screens, noises and laughter echoing across the floor, the others decided they had no choice but to stay. Keith bought a large bag of tokens and set off to play, leaving Rosa and Jaime to sit a table and rest to their hearts content.
"Alright," Keith began, holding the heavy bag of game tokens in his hand. "Where to first?"
His question hadn't been heard in the slightest, Lance already escaping into the game whirlwind. Keith was forced to search for the enthusiastic child, and finally found him gaping in front of a Star Wars racer game, his eyes round and mouth open wide.
"I must play this," Lance whispered, in awe of the game and somehow in love. "It's my calling."
Keith chuckled and handed Lance two tokens. "You'll be needing these to play, smartass."
The two boys hopped into the game console seats and input their coins. As the game roared to life, Darth Vader's theme rumbled and made Lance bounce in his seat.
"Are you ready to get fucking destroyed , Gyeong?" Lance asked while gripping tightly to the game simulator's steering wheel, hopping up and down like a kid on Christmas.
Keith rolled his eyes, showing he didn't care. "Have fun with that, Sanchez." Keith lightly chuckled, because even if he didn't want to admit it outloud, he totally cared. He was about to pummel Lance into the motherfucking ground, and it was gonna be sweet .
The game sparked into life, and the race began. Keith felt calm and contained as he spun the wheel, only violent determination splayed on his face. Lance, on the other hand, looked ready to burst. He was definitely not as good at Keith when it came to racing games, and his vivid, angry response to losing only fueled Keith's drive to win.
Keith obviously won the racing game, coming in at first place and Lance in third (He was even more furious for not only coming in behind Keith, but an NPC as well.)
"You cheated," Lance declared, sliding up from his seat. "You totally cheated."
Keith gave Lance a deadpan gaze, speaking sarcastically up at the taller boy. "Yes, Lance. Because I totally cheated, At a game that you literally cannot cheat on."
Lance scowled, though it was more childish and pouty than actual anger. "Fine, but we need to play more games and have a tournament. It's my new goal to officially beat you at something ."
Keith silently agreed with a nod. There Lance was, being his competitive self again. It seemed Lance had forgotten how he was already better than Keith at several things, like cooking, dancing, interacting with children, understand love. Still, Keith decided to indulge in Lance's fantasies and he agreed at the tournament of arcade games.
"And no cheating!" Lance added with a pointed finger.
Keith raised his hands in defense. "No cheating; I promise. I'm too good a man to be a cheater."
The games began, and in the beginning Keith was set on letting Lance win a few games to settle his competitive nature. Keith couldn't help it though, he was just more coordinated than Lance, and it was beginning to make the competitive boy's hair stand on end. Keith had already won at several games, including shooting games, driving games, games of chance, skeeball, and an extreme game of air hockey that had sent the puck flying twice.
An hour had passed, and within that time Keith had beat Lance at every single game. Lance had come close several times, and his losing definitely didn't mean he was a bad player. Quite the contrary, it was obvious he knew a lot about what he was doing and how to go about it.
However, things changed when they found themselves in front of Dance Dance Revolution.
Keith gulped, staring at the neon colored foot pads and their fast switches. A virtual anime girl twirled on the bright screen, and Keith inwardly cringed.
"I can't believe you're making me do this," Keith whispered, feeling his arms being pulled towards the large game.
Lance continued to tug at Keith in protest, the toothy grin spread wide on his cheeks. "It'll be so fun. Plus, I have a feeling this is something I can officially beat you at! I mean, it's -" He chuckled. "-it's dancing. And you're the worst dancer in the entire world."
Keith gasped, playfully hurt, even if he was still following Lance up onto the game's dance pad. "I am not! I'm a fine dancer."
"Well," Lance began, determination worn proudly on his face. He was cocky, confident that he would win. "We'll see about that. Ready to get creamed?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me lose already so I can beat you at air hockey again."
After Lance slipped the coins into the slot, the game sparked to life. Bright colors and vibrant lights flashed in Keith's eyes while he watched Lance pick through the songs. Cringey techno music from 2004 blared through the selection screen.
"God, just choose already so we can ditch this awful noise," Keith whined, watching several songs pass that would've been completely fine to dance to.
"Shhh-" Lance waved his hand in Keith's direction to shut him up. "I'm trying to find the perfect song. This is momentous, I need something as my victory score."
Keith rolled his eyes and waited another five seconds until Lance finally chose a song.
"Your music taste is impeccable," Keith declared with sarcasm oozing from his lips. "I'm just so excited to be dancing to Lady Gaga in public."
"Shut up, your music taste is Depeche Mode and My Chemical Romance, you're not much better." Despite their bickering, there were smiles on both their faces and the jabs were thrown loosely.
The two boys turned their gaze back to the dance screen and the song began. Brightly colored shapes appeared, coded to different dance moves. The two boys started out their dancing at the same pace, moving limbs in time. However, after a few beats the two boys slowly lost their parallel.
Lance was better, definitely better, and it was making Keith red in the face from all of Lance's insults . And it wasn't that the insults weren't bad or anything, quite the opposite. They were good, in a weird, Lance sort of way, and it was making him blush beyond control.
"Come on pretty boy! You can move faster than that!"
Oh God. Pretty boy? Really? He had the nerve to call him that even after their kissing incident?
Keith spoke through gritted teeth, trying his hardest to move faster. "I am, Lance." His calves were beginning to burn from the intense exercise, and the excess of movement and coordination was getting to him. "Now just play the fucking game."
Lance looked like he wasn't even having an issue, raising an eyebrow innocently. "What? Is pretty boy scared he won't win?"
Keith gave him a deathly glare. "I will push you off this fucking dance floor. You know I will, Sanchez."
With his innocent smile turning devilish, Lance countered quickly. "But you wouldn't. Because that's cheating, and you said you were, and I quote, 'Too good a man to be a cheater'. Come on, handsome, defeat me and we'll see how this goes."
Rolling his bottom lip between his teeth ferociously, Keith finally decided he needed to shut Lance out. Just ignore him , his mind screamed, persuading himself to just pretend Lance wasn't even there. Ignore him and his cute nicknames and his stupid face and his large ears and his crooked smile and his fucking ridiculous laugh-
Oh god.
"Kill me," Keith whispered out loud, just quiet enough that no one would hear.
Lance was dancing, just as he had before. Now that may not sound like much of an issue, but it most definitely was. And why?
Now he was using his hips. Using them to truly move, not just using his feet. He used his head, his arms, practically his entire body, all to make such a simple dancing game look genuinely good. His eyes were closed as if in a gleeful, tranquil state of being, just moving his hips to the beat. It was hot, and Keith didn't even understand how hips could move in such a way. What was it, how was it possible? Did he have an extra alien bone in his hip that allowed him more movement? Did he just have more muscle in his pelvis for convenient control? Was this even fucking natural?
It was beginning to make a fire burn beneath Keith's ribs, turning him angry. Should he fight Lance to the death? Or was this feeling more of a 'fight him to the bed' sort of scenario? Keith wasn't sure, but both options sounded pretty legit.
Lance won by a landslide, mostly due to Keith's flustered state. It caused a large decrease in points, and he even missed the ending dance move by a full two seconds.
Lance threw his hands in the air, his overjoyed face too happy to not be cute. He began to squeal and squirm in place, eyes squeezed shut as he wheezed, "I won! I won! I won, I can't believe I beat Keith at something! I motherfucking beat-"
Keith was completely out of breath, leaning over and holding onto his knees for support. "I thought-" He wheezed in between breathes. "I thought we said no cheating?"
"I didn't cheat," Lance defended, sticking his tongue out in Keith's direction. "I'm just Shakira, and my hips never lie." Lance began to do his victory dance, spinning in circles and shaking his fists.
Keith groaned and leaned back against an empty game for support. "You did that weird hip thing at the end on purpose."
Lance halted his dancing. "I did not. You just love my hips."
The two of them made sudden, sharp eye contact, and for a moment Keith wasn't sure how to respond. Yes, Lance knew he appreciated them, he'd told him in the Corolla a few days earlier. But the way Lance had said it, the tone in his voice, it made Keith wonder if Lance knew .
Did Lance know about Keith's crush?
Honestly, Keith wasn't even sure if he wanted to call it a crush. In his opinion it was unrequited love, something he knew would never be returned. His plan was that Lance would never know, never would he tell him. Because if he did? Lance would never want to see him again, knowing the two of them had kissed and slept in the same bed. It would leave Keith heartbroken.
He'd rather have Lance in his life, oblivious to his feelings, than not have Lance at all.
The two of them left the dance game and moved more into the center of the arcade floor. Lance moved his eyes as if searching for something specific, and Keith raised an eyebrow. "Looking for another game you can beat me on?"
Lance shook his head, still looking. "Nah." And then his eyes lit up when he found it, and he was suddenly gripping Keith's hand and tugging him in the direction of his discovery.
It was a photobooth, the cheesy types that were at amusement parks or fairs.
Lance was ecstatic, wrenching the black curtain open to reveal it was empty. He was giddy, sliding inside and pulling Keith in with him.
"God," Keith began, already blushing and feeling uncomfortable. "These are those things that people have sex in."
Lance rolled his eyes and input a few dollars. "Shut up, we aren't going to have sex, stupid. We're going to take actual pictures together, like a real couple."
"Lame, but whatever."
Keith wasn't about to admit it, but he was excited to take cute, romantic photos in a photobooth. Still, did he want Lance to know that? No. Lance needed to assume Keith was against such a thing. It was something straight from a chick flick (Just like the ones that Lance lived for. Keith secretly enjoyed watching them, but only if Lance was with him.)
Keith sat completely still, watching the screen flash them a few instructions. It was then that Keith realized how close they were, their shoulders squashed against each other, their heads centimeters apart. Keith could hear Lance's breathing; it was evenly paced in comparison to Keith's.
Keith wasn't sure if he could survive taking four pictures. It was just four of them, they only lasted a few seconds, and they weren't going to kill him. Except he was blushing, his face inflamed in red, and Lance was just so close . He could feel his breath on his skin, Keith just close enough to see the soft freckles that lined his nose, or the length of his brown eyelashes.
The first photo went painlessly, and Keith decided he needed to just push through. So he smiled, he made funny faces, he flipped off the camera, he let Lance have his fun in the photo booth. Then, as the last photo's timer began to count down, Lance turned to him.
"I'm going to kiss you."
Keith panicked. No, no more kissing. He couldn't handle any more kissing today, he'd had far too much and any more would make him lose his goddamn mind for this idiot in front of him.
So of course, like the ridiculous man he was, Keith said yes.
Lance took no time waiting. The moment the simple word left Keith's lips, Lance was kissing them, cupping his jaw with both hands and pressing both boys fiercely together.
It was hard and soft at the safe time, like Lance wanted more than anything to go farther, but was holding himself back. Keith let his eyes flutter closed, and he melted for just a moment, wrapping his arms around Lance's neck.
When the camera snapped the photo, the two kissed for only a second longer. Keith was grateful for that extra second. He was going to cherish it, because one second of kissing was worth a thousand years of no kissing, and he would savor that on his tongue forever.
They broke apart and Lance shrugged casually. "My mom will want to see the photo. She'll say we're cute, so I figured it was worth it."
Then he was gone from the photo booth, sending the black curtain flapping behind him. Keith sat alone inside the photobooth, shocked, eyes wide, hand lingering at his own lips. Keith swallowed down air and ran a shaking hand through his longer hair, wishing that Lance would stop doing this to him.
He left the photobooth after a few moments, finally deeming himself composed enough to function. Lance held out one of three photo strips to Keith, a light tint of red on his nose.
"These photos are cute," Lance mumbled.
Keith took one look at them and died, he literally wanted to crawl back into the photobooth and never come out.
Lance was right, the photos were beyond cute. Like, adorable status, like a newborn baby laying in a field of flowers level of adorable.
"These are…" Keith trailed off as he struggled to think of the right word. He couldn't say cute, that would be weird. Were they cool? No, they were kissing in the last image. Were they hot? No, the funny faces were too ridiculous to make them look attractive. "They're, um, these are pretty gay."
"Well. It's okay to be gay." Then he gave his crooked smile, and Keith almost melted into a puddle of water. "And you know what? I like 'em."
Day 6
8:52 P.M .
The date had been a success. Lance declared this several times on the car ride back. Even though the others attempted to mention his major game loss, in the end they all agreed with him. However, the moment they entered through the Sanchez family front door, chaos ensued.
Benji came racing towards them, clothes matted, pillow marks on his cheek, and entirely out of breath (which worried Rosa immensely, but he whacked at her hand to show he was fine.) Keith noticed he had wild bed head, and he wondered if the boy had just woken from a nap.
"So, Mamá -" He began, trying to fix his messy hair. "Abuela just woke me up from my nap with a phone call and-"
Both Lance and Rosa screeched simultaneously.
"You were sleeping?" Rosa cried, eyes wide in shock. "While you were supposed to be babysitting?!"
Benji spoke casually, rolling his eyes. "Mamá , it ain't a big deal. Cleo is watching them, they're in the back yard."
Rosa gave a soft whack to Benji's arm and firmly placed her hands at her round hips. "Benji! You're getting paid for this job! Not Cleo!"
"Well yeah but-"
"I'm paying Cleo instead."
"What?" Benji almost shouted, his jaw dropping. "But Cleo-"
Lance interjected immediately, obviously too impatient. His eyes were wide, and Keith had the feeling that Lance was scared about the same thing he was.
Alright, so yes, Benji sleeping on the job was not a good thing, and yes, he needed to be scolded. However, Keith wanted to get to the part about Abuela, and it was obvious Lance was impatient as well.
"Can we, like, change subject for a moment? Why did Abuela call?"
Benji turned to Lance. "Oh right, that. She called to say her flight comes in from Mexico tomorrow morning. She also said-"
"She's what ?" Lance shrieked, suddenly tugging at his hair. He was suddenly frantic, eyes wide, mouth agape. Keith didn't blame him for being scared, hell, Keith was too.
And he wasn't terrified of officially meeting the famous 'Abuela'. No, he was worried about how she would feel about her grandson having a boyfriend. From what Keith knew, the woman was wild, energetic, enthusiastic, and somewhat batshit crazy. He also knew that she loved her family with all her heart, and would do anything for them. Now, despite these good things, he knew she wouldn't approve of Keith, or his boyfriend position. Which was about to put some tension on Lance, on Keith, and honestly? Tension on the entire family.
"She's arriving tomorrow," Benji affirmed.
"Oh Lord," Rosa began, finally walking into the house and shaking off her shoes. "We need to clean, everything needs to be spotless. She's going to chastise me on my home again. We need to clean!"
"Mamá ," Benji began, watching as the older woman raced about the house to clean the dishes that lay stranded on the counter. "It's nine o'clock at night."
Rosa picked up a towel and shook it at her son angrily. "Clean! Now! Right now!"
Benji groaned loudly and spun on his toes to go put his stuff away, probably his muddy shoes that had been laying on the front porch for half a week. Jaime had escaped to the bedroom (he was good at escaping at intense situations like this), and Daniel and Rachel left to find their children and put them to bed- it was far past their bedtime. (Nine o'clock? Really, Cleo? You're the responsible one.)
"Lance! Go clean your room! Keith and you have been leaving clothes everywhere in there from all your-"
"Mamá !" Lance cried frantically. His blue eyes were wide, and he paced the kitchen with shaking hands. "What am I going to do? Abuela is coming and I have a boy here! She's gonna examine and poke at him! Keith is fragile!"
Rosa turned and looked up at Lance with an angry stare. Despite being several inches shorter than her son, the look she wore was terrifying. "¡Cálmate, Lance!"
Lance spun from his pacing to stare at his mother again. "Calm? Me calm? I can't be calm when my crazy, seventy something year old grandmother comes to meet my boyfriend! She's gonna be so mad, she's gonna do something crazy like last Christmas-"
Keith spoke loudly. "Lance-"
"Oh no, what if she does that ear pulling thing? You know, where she-"
"Lance?"
"Mi Abuela me va a matar, ay no ay no-"
"LANCE!"
"What?"
Lance spun around to look at Keith, who was staring with plain eyes. Keith simply grabbed Lance's hand and tightened his grip around the shaking fingers, bringing them to his lips and placing a soft kiss along the knuckles.
Keith wasn't sure what words would work best to sooth Lance down. He was panicking, that much was obvious, but it wasn't as bad as the attacks of panic Keith had struggled with before. It was more like fear, wondering what to do next, anxiety growing but still under wraps. Keith swallowed and thought back to the words that would make him calm during his panics. For a moment the two boys just stared at each other, oblivious to Rosa scrubbing frantically at dishes.
"Listen-" Keith began, never dropping Lance's hand. "Your Abuela loves you. And, and you may not be able to control her choices or how she reacts, but you can choose how you react."
"I know but what if-"
"Lance, it's late, and if you keep relying on 'what ifs', then you're never going to get anywhere. So for now, lets just go watch a movie. Okay?"
Lance bit his lip, staring at the way Keith rubbed his thumb against Lance's dark palm. "I-I don't know."
Rosa sighed and looked up from the dishes, her soapy hand moved to a hip. "Just go boys."
Keith gave a teeny, comforting smile. "We can watch The Proposal, okay?"
"Okay."
Lance nodded his head and turned to leave the kitchen towards the stairs. As Keith and Lance walked away, both hand in hand, Keith looked over his shoulder at Rosa.
He expected her face to be strained, or at least stressed. And it still was, the sudden arrival of everyone's crazy grandmother already taking it's toll. However, she still smiled at Lance, thin lips pulled into an upwards line. Then she whispered two words, only two, and those words made Keith's heart soar. They made him feel like she really, truly liked him, she valued his presence, was thankful that he was there, that she genuinely, truly, sincerely cared.
"Gracias, Keith."
And Keith couldn't help it, he smiled back.
So yeah, Keith wasn't excited for the arrival of Abuela Sanchez. He wasn't excited in the slightest, he had an idea of what was coming, and he wasn't nearly prepared. But he'd agreed to this trip, and he'd knew what he was getting into from the beginning.
So for now? Lance and him would watch The Proposal, Lance would probably cry, and Keith would pretend to hate it. And then? And then Abuela would arrive, Lance would introduce him, and hopefully Keith wouldn't die in the process.
Day 6
11:32 P.M .
"We need to talk about today."
Keith turned in the bed so that he could look at Lance's eyes, a soft bed sheet draped across the their bodies. The two lay face to face, their noses just centimeters apart, night breath drifting across skin. They'd finished their movie just minutes earlier. Lance had fallen asleep with his cheek against Keith's leg halfway through the film, and at the time Keith had been too nervous to wake the sleeping boy. Now they were finally in bed, teeth brushed, lights off, and dressed down to their sleep clothes (or lack thereof, Lance had a new habit of sleeping shirtless).
"Anything specific you want to talk about?"
Keith cringed at his own sentence. Of course there were things to talk about. He wanted to talk about the soft pads of Lance's fingers and how they'd brushed across his skin, he wanted to talk about his lips and the way they'd placed squarely against his jaw, he wanted to talk about their kiss and he wanted to do it all over again.
So yes, there were things to talk about. Islands of words piled up just waiting to be said. Did he want to say them? Yes. But was he about to? Of course not. He wanted to sleep, it was past two in the morning and he had every intention of closing his eyes.
"I just-" Lance paused, looking anywhere but at Keith's dark eyes. "The kissing. It was all because we're fake boyfriends… right?"
Keith shivered under the blankets, even despite the sticky heat and soft line of sweat he sported. The question was strange, unusual enough that it made Keith's breath falter for a moment, and it could mean a number of things. Keith's main fear was that Lance's question indicated toward Keith's crush, that he knew the truth, that he wanted assurance it was all completely platonic. At the same time Keith wondered if Lance was feeling something, feeling the same, feeling at least interested .
Did Lance like Keith?
For a moment Keith seriously considered the possibility. Then his intellect took over, and the rational part of Keith's mind reminded him how preposterous that could be. Keith didn't need false ideas in his head, especially at two a.m.
"Of course," Keith lied. "Part of the job description."
Lance's face was void of emotion, though it was hard to see with only the glow stars for light. He was silent, the only sound was his soft breathing, and Keith assumed he'd fallen asleep. And then Lance spoke, his voice drifting and broken apart, drowsy and obviously on the brink of sleep.
"Okay." He finally whispered, suddenly turning around in the bed with his back to Keith. "Goodnight, Keith."
And then Keith was alone, alone to think about the events of tomorrow, to relive the kisses in his mind, to ponder and consider and contemplate and cry. Alone to count the stars, one by one by one.